


Clint Barton's been stabbed before...

by dreamerwatergirl



Series: Whumptober 2018 [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamerwatergirl/pseuds/dreamerwatergirl
Summary: Whumptober Day 1- StabbedHawkeye gets stabbed. Not for the first time and not for the last, but this time in front of Captain America.Featuring a more Hawkeye Hawkeye then the one in the MCU.





	Clint Barton's been stabbed before...

**Author's Note:**

> This will hopefully set up the rest of my whumptober fics, but may jump fandoms. Please like and review. I'm sure there are mistakes and I'm sorry for them. Enjoy.

Clint Barton had been stabbed before. A few times. He’s lost count. Probably too many to be healthy, but when was he ever healthy. Yes, he’s been stabbed before. Hell, he’s stabbed before. He knows what it feels like to have a foreign object pierce through his skin until the skin gives up and it slides into the wet, hot blood and all the squishy parts below. He’s been stabbed quickly, just a flash of metal he barely saw. He’s been stabbed slowly, the drawn-out twist of it while sadistic eyes watch. Yes, yes, Clint Barton’s been stabbed before, but never, never in front of Captain America. 

After the capsicle was unfrozen, Agent Barton was with him, from a distance anyway. Coulson and Fury handled the face to face things and Clint watched from afar. He didn’t tell anyone of the Captain America bear he grew up with, found in an old thrift store in Iowa or the Bucky Bear he took in after Barney didn’t want him anymore. He didn’t tell anyone that he still had them. Only Nat knew and that’s only because she broke into his house while he was sleeping. She claims it was to make sure he was still breathing and he believes her, but he makes her swear that she’ll never tell anyone and she doesn’t. Captain America was an otherworldly creature to a lot of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He was a god, but Clint knew him better. He was a hero. Something Clint never was, despite what people may say.  
After the attack on New York, most of S.H.I.E.L.D started to agree with him. But he had fought alongside Captain America, been one of his soldiers, taken his orders and had saved his life. A few times that day according to Nat. He had been a hero. An Avenger. That didn’t change much, not in the grand scheme of things. Sure, he moved into Stark’s tower after the man with too much of everything went ahead and spent his money on a floor for him. So they could be the Avengers. Captain America became Cap, something quick, short and fun to say over comms while they worked. He found he liked to tease the good old captain. It separated him from the idol, the teddy bear in his room, hidden in the nest of pillows and sheets. He had to swear JARVIS to secrecy too. 

With the Avengers as with all things, Clint tried to keep his distance. He was sure that was for the best. Always was. Keep them within sight, keep them safe. Keep them at a distance where they couldn’t touch him. Kept him safe. Where it wouldn’t hurt when they went to hurt him. It was hard, though. Hard to watch Cap hit punching bag after punching bag to stave off the cold or Stark isolate himself in his lab, tinkering away the night to escape the nightmares. To see Thor yanked back and forth between his old home and his found one each with a broken family that he doesn’t know how to fix or Dr. Banner so at war with himself and so afraid of who might win. And then there’s Nat who is dealing perhaps the best of them all, by working. Working as much as she can for S.H.I.E.L.D, for the Avengers, but he knows that sometimes the work is worse. Knows how trapped she is, but he knows how it helps. 

He helps, however, he can without giving himself away, giving them an opening. Food left out for Stark and Dr. Banner. And coffee always coffee. Tea for the doc with it’s a post-Hulk kind of day. Water and a new, new thing for the man out of time left on Cap’s bed while he’s out punching away. At first, it was pizza, many many different types of pizza, then it was Lord of the Rings- the movies then the books. Clint keeps checking in with JARVIS to make sure it’s not something the Captain’s tried yet. He thinks macarons and nerds are next, then a heating blanket. Video games with Thor to keep him smiling because the god needs activity and a time to forget about all his obligations and all the pains of both his worlds and needs something besides the beer Clint also leaves him in big old steins that are harder to break and different candies. For Banner and Stark, he’ll also leave science and medical magazines scattered about the common areas along with little puzzles. It helps. He thinks. As much as it can. They don’t know who does it. JARVIS isn’t ratting him out and they’ve forgotten about him, he thinks. It’s rather easy to travel the tower unseen through the vents. Clint likes leaving things for Cap the most. It’s exciting to know he’ll experience something new in small doses even if the archer won’t see it. Clint will even put an extra blanket on him when he sleeps if he starts to shiver and dream of the waters. Sometimes he leaves the Captain reminders of home when the days are particularly bad days when Starks flashed too much tech or used too many references Cap doesn’t get yet. Recorders of his favorite songs, a sketchbook and oil pastels, charcoals, various art supplies, baseball cards of his favorite players. Clint has thought of leaving his Bucky Bear but doesn’t know if it will help or not, so he doesn’t. 

The Avengers worked well together. Like Fury predicted. For the most part. Every now and then a mission went south. Not unlike the one where Clint got stabbed in front of Captain America. It was just the two of them. The heavy hitters and Iron Man were out trying to stop robots from destroying the city while the others went to shut them down from the inside. Black Widow was on a separate mission and Cap wouldn’t let Clint go alone although he insisted he could handle it. The lack of trust hurt, but Clint understood it. He and Cap finally made it to the control room where Stark- well JARVIS said the main off switch would be. Clint tried to hack all he could but A.I.M was smarter than the dumb yellow suits implied because the deactivation process required three separate keys all turned at once. Clint cursed, then raised his bow and notched an arrow at the control panel. If he was right about this then he’d stop all the bots, but it'll stop his hearing aids too. He hoped to god he was right as he let the arrow fly. 

Steve’s breathing was heavy and his grip on his shield tight as Hawkeye raised his bow. The arrow hit the console and sparks flew and so did a wave of energy that shorted out ever robot linked to the signal A.I.M was transmitting. Steve smiled widely and laughed. He wanted to hug Clint. Pull that smart, smart man close and kiss him. The battle was over. 

Clint lowered his bow and shot him a crooked smile. There was no sound around him. He couldn’t hear Cap’s laughter and that made him a little sad. But he could watch him be happy. How his eyes shone from under the mask and sweat and dirt, how his shoulders slumped and his shield dropped looser in his hand. Clint didn’t see it coming, didn’t hear it. His only warning was when Cap’s whole body tensed. Clint didn’t understand until he felt the pain in his gut. He looked down to see the yellow gloved hand wrapped around the piece of glass that moving up and down in his gut as he breathed. Then in a blink, it was in his leg. Bright, burning pain in the meat of his leg and blood began to spread across the dark fabric of his suit. Clint began to crumble, kicking the A.I.M agent in the head as Cap rushed towards him. The Captain caught him before he hit the ground. He was saying something, but Clint couldn’t hear it. His last thought flushed him with red-hot shame. He just got stabbed in front of Captain America. 

Steve cursed as Hawkeye’s sharp eyes fluttered shut. “No. No! NO! Clint stay with me!” Unlike Clint, Steve didn’t have that much experience with stabbings or stab wounds. He applied pressure and panicked. If Clint had stayed conscious, he could have told Steve that they weren’t as bad as they looked. It was a lot of blood, but nothing Clint hadn't lost before. But Hawkeye was out. Steve slung his shield over his back and struggled to remember his basic training. He tried off the leg wound and gut one as best he could and picked the archer up. Barton was surprisingly light despite his impressive arm muscles. Steve tried not to picture how easy it would be to pick him up the next time the archer collapsed on the common couches or the god forbid the kitchen floor again and carry him to bed. He tried not to think about how peaceful, despite the dirt and the blood Hawkeye looked in his arms. He altered the team- interrupting Stark complaining, and ordered one of the flying ones to meet him at the entrance to race Clint to the nearest hospital. He wasn’t surprised when it was Thor who showed with a grim look marring his features, although he was a little surprised by the amount of care the Asgardian took in carrying the injured hawk off. 

Steve rushes to the hospital, making Fury drive him, instead of debriefing. Fury puts up a minor protest. Clint is still technically one of his agents, if not one of the few people to worm his way under Fury’s eye-patched up heart. Clint does that. Steve’s the last to get there and he hates it. Tony’s in his metal suit flipping through a magazine and Banner’s sipping tea still a little green. Thor is spinning his hammer, but they all jump to their feet when they see him. Steve turned to Banner. “Any news yet?” “He’s in surgery. What happened?” He tells them how fine it had gone. How Clint and he had disabled every A.I.M agent that got in their way and made it to the control room. “Hawkeye tried the system, but--” Stark scoffed. “I should have gone in and done it. I could have done it. Legolas didn’t need to shoot a damn EMP arrow at the thing.” JARVIS piped up from Stark’s suit. “Actually, sir, according to my scans A.I.M was using a three key shutdown method. Agent Barton couldn’t have done anything else in the time available” “He could’ve not gotten stabbed.” Tony muttered back to his AI. Steve still didn’t quite understand JARVIS, technically speaking, but he did like the voice. “Very true, sir, but only Agent Barton could have quickly and efficiently invaded the A.I.M facility and deployed an EMP hit with that accuracy.” “Hey Cap was there too.” “Only Agent Barton.” Tony continued to argue with his AI while Steve collapsed into a chair as failure crept into him. He had gone with Clint to keep him safe and he had failed. FUCK! He gripped his shield close and rested his forehead against the metal, trying not to think of how it was stained with Clint’s blood.  


Eventually, after what felt like hours, a S.H.I.E.L.D surgeon came out and eased all their worries. They were allowed to see him two at a time. Steve rushed in first. He looked so small with a bandage around his middle and a stiff blanket over his legs, tubes in his arm and heartbeat on display. Steve took up residence in the chair by his bed. The others came and left and Clint slept. He was told it was normal for the medication they put Clint on. Steve missed the big long medicine names, but Banner seemed to approve so Steve trusted it. Steve didn’t miss the words dehydration, sleep deprivation, malnourished or the other older pink scars that stretched across Clint’s skin or how Fury strongly suggested that once they can to take him home. Preferably before he wakes. Hospitals and Hawkeye don’t mix. Banner hesitantly promises to handle any of the minor medical things that might come up and Stark gets to show off the med floor he had installed, after seeing Hawkeye’s number of med visits and doctor complaints. He smugly announces that the med floor is vent free. The doctors hesitate to release him but concede because they’re the Avengers. Steve sees Fury relax a fraction and can’t help but wonder if it was to keep the hospital staff safe from a bedridden Barton or to keep Barton safe. Just how many enemies does Hawkeye have? Fury suggests they keep him knocked out for a day or two at least or else Clint is likely to pull his stitches. Steve doesn’t like it, but they do. Fury presses a small purple baggie into his hands before he goes and instructs him to give it to Clint when he wakes and asks that he doesn’t open it. 

They get Clint settled before he wakes and in that time they notice something or a lack of something. Everyone feels stupid for not noticing and everyone gets a chance to sit by his side as he sleeps. Tony talks because that’s what Tony does, hell he even created something that would listen and respond when he talks.  
“How’d you get JARVIS to like you so much? He’s my AI.” There’s no sassy response from the bed just a steady beep of his heart.  
“How about you JARVIS anything to say? Why’d you do it? Get in coots against me with Featherhead, huh?” He expects the AI to stay silent too, but he’s wrong.  
“The same reason I imagine Agent Barton did.” The calm disembodied voice replies. Tony stares at Clint’s unmoving, peaceful form, trying to solve him like a puzzle, see how he tricked like a machine.  
“And why’s that?”  
“To make you happy, sir.”  
That silence’s Tony for a while. Because Clint did, with the favorite foods waiting for him, freshly made or freshly arrived minutes before Tony even realized he had been starving. He thought it had been JARVIS. The puzzles and the magazines that led to so many breakthroughs, because of dog-eared pages he thought had been Banner.  
Bruce sits by him too. Drinking tea and smiling sadly at the archer. Such concealed compassion. He tries not to grow angry at the scars he sees while changing the bandages or to worry about the damage he sees Barton’s ears. He just sits and reads the books Barton’s been leaving him and tries not to wonder how smart Barton truly is behind it all or why he hides. 

Thor tries to sit by his side and does for a while. He wants to climb on the bed with the Hawk and cuddle him until he’s better, but the Captain told him no. Thor doesn’t quite understand because that’s the common practice on Asgard. So he sits and plays a game on his own and wishes Clint will wake to play with him again. He drinks fondly from his stein and vows to bring the archer gifts from Asgard and to cuddle him then. 

Steve sits with him the most. Reads to him from the books he’s left, draws him while he’s peacefully asleep, holds his calloused hand and squeezes because he’s still afraid somehow that something will go wrong and take him away. Thanks, him for all that he’s done and cries a bit because of it. Calls him a hero and just wants him to wake. Steve is the one with him when he wakes. He nearly collapses with relief and puts his hand on Clint’s cheek. Clint groans and Steve’s whole face tightens back up and Clint lets out a small laugh. His eyes close slowly and his speech comes out slurred.  
“I’m fiiinnee, Cap. I’ve been stabbed before.” He giggles. The drugs were working, then  
Cap says something but Clint can’t hear it, but feels a hand squeeze his.  
“This isn’t even the worst time. The worst time was the first time. Dad was so madddd. No wait the worst time was the circcuss. The alleyyy. Don’t know how I survived that one…. The first time I had my bears.” He pats the bed around him with one hand and panics. He looks at Cap with sad, drugged eyes. His bottom lip sticks out as he asks “Will you go get my bears?” 

Steve’s mind tries to process what Clint told him. He is sure the man wouldn’t have if he hadn’t have been drugged. He looked adorable when he asked for the bears so even though Steve didn’t know what that meant he rode the elevator to Clint’s floor anyway trying not to think too much about the secrets drugged Clint split to him. He tells JARVIS to alter Bruce that the patient is awake and starts looking around Clint’s room. There are few possessions around, but a bed with a lot of blankets and pillows. If he didn’t know better, he would have called it a nest. He ends up asking JARVIS what bears Clint’s was talking about.  
“I believe he means his Captain America Bear and Bucky Bear. They are under the blankets, Captain.” Steve doesn’t quite understand the AI until he pulls out the too squishy lumps from the bed. The two bears are worn and obviously well-loved. There’s faded C.B and B.B on the tag. Steve smiles softly as he gives each bear a hug, staring a little too long at the Bucky Bear and the B.B on the tag because he didn’t even know they made them and the sadness it stirs. His gaze shifts to the Cap bear with the C.B on the tag and huffs a laugh. He asks JARVIS if they make a Hawkeye bear and if not to find someone to make him one as he heads back to the elevator. The AI warns that the bears another confidential topic, as the AI puts it, so Steve puts them into a bag with a change of clothes and a book he finds on the nightstand, oh and the purple baggie that Fury gave him. He squeezes the bag close as he rides the elevator up and tries not to think about the piece of glass as it disappeared into Clint or what he could have possibly meant by the first time or the worst time.  
“JARVIS, can you expedite that Hawkeye bear?”  
“Of course, sir.”


End file.
